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If he and his friends entered this narrow and dark opening might not the Indian woman roll down some rock back of them, cutting off forever the way of escape? Tom turned and looked at Masni. Then he was ashamed of his suspicion, for the honest black face, smiling at him, showed no trace of guile. "You go you see lost men," the woman urged. "Come on!" cried Tom.
"My man he good man but he 'fraid," said the wife. "He want to tell you of bad mans, but he 'fraid. You save my baby, I no 'fraid. I tell." "Oh, I see," said Tom. "Your husband would have given away the secret, only he's afraid of the bad men. He likes me, too?" "Sure!" Masni exclaimed. "He want tell, but 'fraid. He go 'way, I tell."
"Come," she said, in her strange Indian tongue, which Tom could interpret well enough for himself now. "But where are we going, Masni?" he asked. "This isn't the way to the tunnel." "Me know. Not go to tunnel now," was her answer. "Me show you men." "But which men do you mean, Masni?" inquired Tom. "The lost men, or the bad ones, who are making trouble for us? Which men do you mean?"
He and the others were soon informed. Masni stopped in front of a pile of brush. With a few vigorous motions of her arms she swept it aside and revealed a smooth slab of rock. In the centre was what seemed to be a block of metal Masni placed her foot on this and pressed heavily. And those watching saw a strange thing.
He recognized some places where he had taken samples of rock from the outcropping to test the strength of his explosive. Reaching a certain wild and desolate place, Masni made a signal of caution. She seemed to be listening intently. Then, as if satisfied there was no danger, she parted some bushes and glided in, motioning the others to follow. "Now I wonder what's up," Tom mused.
He took another look down into the tunnel, which was now deserted on account of the strike, and then Masni pressed on the mechanism that worked the stone. She showed Tom how to do it. "Just a counter-balanced rock operating on the same principle as does a window," Tom explained, after a brief examination. "Probably some of the old Indian tribes made this shaft for ceremonial purposes.
There must be some other way into it than down the rock where we were. How about it, Masni?" and he inquired as to the valley. The Indian woman gave Tom to understand that there was another entrance. "Well, close up this shaft now before some one sees us at it the bearded man, for example," Tom suggested.
A little later they were partaking of a rude, but none the less welcome, lunch in the woman's hut, while the baby whose life Tom had saved cooed in the rough log cradle. "Say, Masni," asked Tom, addressing the woman by name, "don't you know where we can get some men to work the tunnel?" Of course Tom spoke the Indian language, and he had to adapt himself to the comprehension of Masni.
"Men no work tunnel?" she inquired. "No, they've all skipped out vamoosed. Afraid of some spirit." The woman looked around, as though in fear. Then she approached Tom closely and whispered: "No spirit in tunnel bad man!" "What!" cried Tom, almost jumping off his stool. "What do you mean, Masni?" "Me tell mighty hunter," she went on, lowering her voice still more.
How did they get here, Masni?" "Me show you. Come!" They went back along the trail that led through the split in the rock, until they had come to the place where the natural curtain of vines concealed the entrance. Tom took particular notice of this place so he would know it again. Then Masni led them over the mountain, and this time Tom saw that they were approaching the tunnel.
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